You just tried to kill me with two giant swarms of bugs and now you want to get frisky?
So today was utterly fucking rediculous . . .
To start with . . . had an appt with the apt I'm trying to get into. They have one one-bedroom left and I'm trying desperately to get into it.
So, I had a bill from 2002 that needed to be paid and was in collections. I paid it. They recieved payment. EVERYBODY INVOLVED agrees with this.
I show up today. The apt. lady tells me they need a fax or a sheet of paper that says the bill has been paid. I have none. So I call PGE (the people the bill was first with) and ask them to fax something over to the apt. complex so I can fill out the paperwork. They refuse, having not recieved notification from collections. So I call collections and ask them to fax something over to the apt. complex. They say they can't it will have to be PGE however PGE can call them and then decide if they want to fax something to the apt. complex. So I call PGE . . . to be put on hold while they call collections. OK, PGE says they have it noted off as paid and I can start my account now. I ask if they can fax said information to the apt. complex. They tell me 'no' because they don't have the money in hand.
Here's where it gets really rediculous.
I drive to the PGE office, where the receptionist hands me a phone to talk to somebody else at PGE who tells me they can't fax me anything either.
Everybody knows it's been paid. Nobody will fax anything. If it were a contention of payment, I'd understand, but everybody agrees that the fucking thing has been paid. They've even snail mailed me a copy of the reciept, which probably won't get here in time to get the apt b/c they can't hold it.
Meanwhile I was supposed to be at a lunch, but hence cannot contact the person I was supposed to be lunching with. At all. Mixed blessing, but communication break downs always annoy me.
I go to the store, two hours to work, to read some romance and chill out.
Not so fast. People outside . . . no quiet time for Michelle.
*grr*
So I wander in to work.
Two hours into my shift I get a call from somebody telling me that they're picking up their stuff, which they left back in August. I can't say 'yes' or 'no'. It's their stuff. Fine. But I'm not home. I'm at work. And damned if i care or know what to do about it. They couldn't think of this you know, maybe six months ago? The people's ability around me to not take care of their own moving shit and expect me to jump at the opportunity to help them is making me a level '99 blood pressure case.
OK, so management all goes home early. I take only a half, because it's d-e-d dead.
9pm hits and the departmetn fucking explodes with people. I've got three on-deck questions, not counting the ones I'm answering. 1-hour breaks every fifteen seconds, and I'm on the firing line for a good hour and a half including customer complaints, desk idiocy, and, my personal favorite, fixing computers.
So I get this kid buying a PSP . . . about 17/18 . . . I had to run through how to work the entire fucking thing with him while in the midst of this chaos.
The day of rediculousness has finally ended with Fedja and Shari's . . . and ice cream. Sometimes, I really adore that boy. 'Cuz otherwise it would've been me, my walkman, and a romance novel and how sad would that have been?
Hope everybody's day went OK.
My day has officially become the Worlds Most Rediculous Day.
-M-
To start with . . . had an appt with the apt I'm trying to get into. They have one one-bedroom left and I'm trying desperately to get into it.
So, I had a bill from 2002 that needed to be paid and was in collections. I paid it. They recieved payment. EVERYBODY INVOLVED agrees with this.
I show up today. The apt. lady tells me they need a fax or a sheet of paper that says the bill has been paid. I have none. So I call PGE (the people the bill was first with) and ask them to fax something over to the apt. complex so I can fill out the paperwork. They refuse, having not recieved notification from collections. So I call collections and ask them to fax something over to the apt. complex. They say they can't it will have to be PGE however PGE can call them and then decide if they want to fax something to the apt. complex. So I call PGE . . . to be put on hold while they call collections. OK, PGE says they have it noted off as paid and I can start my account now. I ask if they can fax said information to the apt. complex. They tell me 'no' because they don't have the money in hand.
Here's where it gets really rediculous.
I drive to the PGE office, where the receptionist hands me a phone to talk to somebody else at PGE who tells me they can't fax me anything either.
Everybody knows it's been paid. Nobody will fax anything. If it were a contention of payment, I'd understand, but everybody agrees that the fucking thing has been paid. They've even snail mailed me a copy of the reciept, which probably won't get here in time to get the apt b/c they can't hold it.
Meanwhile I was supposed to be at a lunch, but hence cannot contact the person I was supposed to be lunching with. At all. Mixed blessing, but communication break downs always annoy me.
I go to the store, two hours to work, to read some romance and chill out.
Not so fast. People outside . . . no quiet time for Michelle.
*grr*
So I wander in to work.
Two hours into my shift I get a call from somebody telling me that they're picking up their stuff, which they left back in August. I can't say 'yes' or 'no'. It's their stuff. Fine. But I'm not home. I'm at work. And damned if i care or know what to do about it. They couldn't think of this you know, maybe six months ago? The people's ability around me to not take care of their own moving shit and expect me to jump at the opportunity to help them is making me a level '99 blood pressure case.
OK, so management all goes home early. I take only a half, because it's d-e-d dead.
9pm hits and the departmetn fucking explodes with people. I've got three on-deck questions, not counting the ones I'm answering. 1-hour breaks every fifteen seconds, and I'm on the firing line for a good hour and a half including customer complaints, desk idiocy, and, my personal favorite, fixing computers.
So I get this kid buying a PSP . . . about 17/18 . . . I had to run through how to work the entire fucking thing with him while in the midst of this chaos.
The day of rediculousness has finally ended with Fedja and Shari's . . . and ice cream. Sometimes, I really adore that boy. 'Cuz otherwise it would've been me, my walkman, and a romance novel and how sad would that have been?
Hope everybody's day went OK.
My day has officially become the Worlds Most Rediculous Day.
-M-